Ashes, Ashes
by Pitch Black Glow
Summary: Jaywing was forced to forget his dead mate and move on in life. Littlepaw was told he was a useless, lame apprentice who couldn't do as much as lift a squirrel. And Fireflower is never going to forget the bitter lies from her parents. Revenge is the only thing they live for now, and suddenly everything snaps into focus for their friends. Is it too late to save them?


_**Suspense is everywhere... Enjoy the story!**_

_**~Autumn's Pen**_

* * *

**_Ashes, Ashes_**

"Jaywing, Amberleaf is complaining of sores again!" Jaywing looked up at the broad-shouldered, giant tabby tom peering down at him with anxious gray eyes.

"Tell her I'll be right there after I'm done with Lionstar, Pineclaw," The light gray tom replied with a swipe of his pink tongue over his jaws. As Pineclaw left, Jaywing was left alone in the quiet, shaded area of the warriors' fresh kill area. The crow he had been eating lay discarded in front of him, now mostly bones.

It was a morbid thing, black and the very symbol of death. It circled the unburied dead and preyed on their flesh without mercy.

What would it be thinking, then? Would it perhaps be taking pity on the souls of the dead who were vulnerable to the power of the elements? A powerful wave of revulsion and nausea rolled over him, and Jaywing tore his gaze from the crow.

He turned to the rest of the camp, just in time to see Brackenthorn's patrol come into the camp. The bright, intelligent golden tom stopped talking with Robinheart, a cheerful tiny she cat and bounded to Jaywing. When he saw the pained expression reflected in his brother's soulful eyes, he quickly assumed his regular disposition, a serious, darkened tom much like the gray tom by his side.

"What is the matter, Jaywing?" he murmured quietly, but mostly to himself. "It's Vixenheart's death, isn't it?"

Jaywing laughed out. It was a fake laugh, one that sounded as dry and as thin as the small curls of birch bark. It was like the dry riverbed in a rainforest that the elder Amberleaf had told stories of, and the dead tree in the middle of Thunderclan's forest burned in a thunderstorm many moons back.

"Jaywing, your kits need you." Brackenthorn pressed on at his brother. Jaywing made the mistake of glancing at his pale, olive green eyes. They were darkening with the shine of oncoming tears. "Please, brother… Be strong for us."

Jaywing turned away to face the hard stone walls surrounding the camp. A salty tear trickled down his cheek, carving a dark, gray line on his face. It dripped onto the ground, followed by another and another until he was crying softly.

Brackenthorn touched his brother's shoulder with his tail, smoothing down the trembling fur. Silently, he put his neck on his brother and gave a sigh of remorse.

"We both lost those we loved, brother. I remember my sweet, sweet Rosefire, the she cat I fell in love with moons and moons back. You and Vixenheart, who was scarred, burned, and killed in the War of Flames." The golden tom let out a brittle, forced laugh, and threw down the prey he had been carrying in his claws at Jaywing's paws. "Back then, I always thought that I was the luckiest tom alive when she told me yes. I was young and foolish. And now as I try to recall the face I had yearned for in the past, all I can see are those haunted, green eyes…"

Brackenthorn dipped his head. His mood was dreary and tired, and suddenly the tom felt like he could no longer stand up. His legs threatened to buckle every second he was up, and his head felt like the world had fallen around it.

"Please excuse me. I am going to see Starflight." He said faintly, and began to pad away, walking like a cat that had just seen a ghost.

"Vixenheart's eyes were violet blue," Jaywing whispered after a long silence. "And she didn't die in the War of Flames, my sweet brother. No, she did not die." The tom closed his eyes, and he drifted off lightly to the path of his dreams. "When I saw her last, I looked deep into her eyes. And I didn't see the haunt and fear you saw in Rosefire's. I saw eyes calling for revenge. Revenge for her murder, my sweet brother."

Jaywing laughed softly, darkly. He looked down to scuff dirt over the crow and the tear stains that had painfully left his eyes.

Only then, when he brushed the dry earth over the bones did he see what Brackenthorn had brought him from the patrol.

A mountain jay, rarely seen in the damp, great forest of Thunderclan. Its lifeless eyes penetrated deep into Jaywing and he felt wetness in his own.

The tom stood up, leaving the jay where it was. "Pineclaw," he called to the new warrior. "Please send both Amberleaf and Lionstar my regards. I must rest."

Seeing the warrior's giant shadow waving in the dipping sun's colors, Jaywing felt his heart clench and he hurried into the warriors' den.

And the violet blue eyes of the jay watched him with every step he took. _I am waiting, _they called to him. _I am waiting for justice._

Once again, Jaywing turned away and buried his face into his ash gray fur. Droplets of tears rolled down his cheeks until he could cry no more. _I'm sorry Vixenheart. I said I would protect you forever, but I failed in the very end.' _


End file.
